


Track-Suit

by weardodo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Panic Attack, Peter is a businessman, Stiles is an intern, age-difference, mentions of drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-24 20:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weardodo/pseuds/weardodo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 times Peter and Stiles end up riding the train together and had company (and the 1 time they were alone)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing another fic yesterday, and when I was 2K in, another idea suddenly forced itself upon me and I couldn't finish the other fic *sad face*... 
> 
> So... here is the first chapter of that other idea that came barging in (yes, it's another WIP *sorry*) ^^
> 
> Hope you like it! 
> 
> -x-
> 
> Oh, btw, this one's for Steterweek =)
> 
> (and unbeta'd, blahblah, all mistakes are mine)

 

 

**1\. Respect Your Elders**

 

He’s going to be late. Oh god, he can’t be late, not on his first day, Lydia will kill him!

 

Stiles tries to move his binder with documents to one hand so he can peak at his watch while running and imagining all the very painful ways Lydia will think up of to torture him if he screws this up. There had been a time that those thoughts had a slightly more pleasant outcome, but those days are definitely history.

 

She was nice enough to get him an intern-spot at the tech-division of one of the most well-renowned companies of the state, and of course, because that is Stiles’ life somehow, his Jeep broke down the second he needed her the most.

 

He’s not angry at Betty though, she an old lady and his dad always taught him to respect your elders – okay, so he might’ve kicked her tire once after she’d come to a sputtering halt not two miles from his home, but he apologized right after, caressing the hood and mumbling a few ‘sorry’s’ before running back to the house.

 

And now, here he is, running like Usain Bolt – okay, perhaps more like some nutjob on meth, but he can’t help the fact that he’s rather ‘expressive’ with his limbs – and he really needs to catch that train.

 

He’s so caught up in visuals of balloons and confetti when he sees the train still standing there at the platform, that he doesn’t notice the man coming from the right and before he knows what the hell happened he’s laying on the floor with papers flying through the air.

 

“Oh my god, I’m so _so_ sorry! Shit!” He’s scrambling over the floor on his knees frantically trying to gather his papers, not taking a second to look up at who – or what? – he just hit, when suddenly someone squats down in front of him and hands him the last few of his documents.

 

He looks down at the hand a little confused, muttering a few more apologies, before he lets his eyes drift upward and comes eye to eye with the man – although Stiles could’ve sworn it felt more like a brick wall – he just collided with.

 

“God, I’m so sorry, I – ” His brain suddenly malfunctions and he can’t seem to form anymore words, because the man he just hit is downright gorgeous. He knows he’s staring and that his mouth is hanging ajar, so he quickly tries to regain himself, licking his lips and swallowing audibly while scrambling to his feet.

 

The man straightens himself too, just looking at him, visibly amused by Stiles’ display of clumsiness.

 

“I um – ” He rakes a hand through his hair, shaking his head to try and kick-start his brain.

 

“Let me guess, you’re sorry?” The man offers with a bemused tone of voice. Stiles just nods, mouth somehow having surrendered to gravity again. Come on brain, don’t let me down now!

 

The man, probably somewhere in his late thirties, is wearing a gray – or is it silver? – casual suit that fits him perfectly and Stiles can just imagine what kind of features are hiding underneath. He has dark, slicked back hair, a perfectly neat trimmed goatee and the most piercing blue eyes Stiles has ever seen. And Stiles is absolutely positive that something inside his head melted the moment the man smiled at him.

 

He just stands there like an idiot for a minute or so before the man cocks his head and narrows his eyes a bit.

 

“You know, it would be a shame if this little ‘accident’ makes us both miss our train, don’t you agree?”

 

The sound of a whistle snaps Stiles out of his daze and he nods frantically while running to the nearest door. He does sneak a glance over his shoulder before hopping inside, giving him a perfectly good sideways view of the man’s ass when he gets into the next carriage

 

Of course the man also has a perfect ass, because when Stiles makes an idiot of himself, he has to do it in front of the hottest guy he has ever laid eyes on, that is just how his life works. He sighs and gets in just before the doors close.

 

After fishing the crumpled-up piece of paper from his pocket he starts walking through the carriage while comparing the seat-numbers on the paper with the ones above the compartments.

 

Apparently he got in through the wrong door, because he finds his seat-number in the next carriage, and when he double-checks the numbers on the paper with the ones above the door, he slides it open to get in.

 

Yes, this apparently is exactly how his life works, because the moment he walks into the compartment his eyes fall on the only other occupant, and of course it’s none other than the hot guy who he just ran into, the guy who’s ass he just drooled over mere minutes before.

 

“Well well, we meet again,” the guy says with a smirk and Stiles can’t help but stare at the man with wide-eyes while giving a weak wave. Luckily the guy doesn’t seem to expect a response, because he turns his head back to his work.

 

Quickly shaking his head he places his binder on the seat opposite the man and sits down next to it.

 

The man is reading some papers, holding a pen and tapping it against his bottom-lip a few times as if in thought, and Stiles lets his eyes wander.

 

The guy disposed of his suit-jacket and has placed it neatly across his briefcase that’s standing on the seat next to him. He’s wearing a long-sleeved tight grey shirt with a small v-neck. The sleeves are rolled up to just above his elbows, showing of the man’s very manly underarms and Stiles has to do everything in his power not to let a stream of saliva exit his mouth.

 

He’s probably some sort of businessman, Stiles guesses, and he’s definitely not picturing the man inside an office doing all sorts of dirty things to him across a desk.

 

Just before the train starts to move, the door slides open again and an elderly couple enter the compartment. Stiles looks at the couple for a brief moment before looking at Hot-Guy (what? He doesn’t know the guy’s name, so this is the next best thing, okay!), and apparently they’re both on the same page because the man catches his eyes briefly before turning sideways to remove his briefcase and jacket, only to place them between his legs in front of him.

 

Stiles quickly grabs his binder and moves over to the seat next to Hot-Guy, giving the elderly couple the two seats next to each-other, because _hey_ , ‘respect your elders’ and all that jazz.

 

The couple gives them both a courteous smile and a polite ‘thank you’ before sitting down. Stiles  thinks most senior couples are cute, he doesn’t know why but it’s probably something to do with the fact that they always seem to move completely n-sync, as if they’ve become one through years of love and companionship. This couple is definitely of that cute variety.

 

It isn’t until half-way through the journey, after Stiles had peaked over to the man next to him numerous times to try and get a glance of what the guy was working on – and okay, to just ogle the guys hotness, but that’s beside the point – that he’s definitely willing to take that back.

 

This couple is clearly from hell and put in this compartment to torture him – it wouldn’t surprise him if Lydia is behind all this, maybe she hired them or something as a punishment for almost being late?

 

“We just love the gays,” the old lady suddenly provides out of thin air with a big smile on her face, and Stiles starts to choke on air – because apparently that is possible.

 

“Excuse me?” he manages to get out with a raspy voice from coughing, and he notices that the lady’s statement had also caught Hot-Guy’s attention, because he’s sitting there looking just as stunned as Stiles feels.

 

“The gays. We adore you people, don’t we dear?” She looks over to her husband who just stares at them with a smile and responds with a nod.

 

Stiles is about ready to die right now, because what? He dares to glance over to the hot guy sitting next to him who’s smiling a forced smile, still wide-eyed and clearly not able to correct such a sweet old lady.

 

“And you two make such a handsome couple, don’t you agree honey, don’t they make a handsome couple?” Her husband nods again and it’s Hot-Guy’s turn to almost choke on air, which is one of the cutest things Stiles has ever seen – except for that one picture that Scott send him of a pile of newborn puppies that were born at the vet-clinic, but still.

 

The lady starts talking about her granddaughter and her ‘female’ lover – emphasis on the female and Stiles is about ready to protest, slowly raising his hand, when he suddenly feels hot-guy’s knee bumping against his, making him look at the point of contact before looking up and catching hot-guy’s eyes.

 

Hot-Guy raises a flat hand a bit as if saying ‘relax, let them have their moment’ and Stiles starts to deflate. After all, who is he to protest when an extremely hot man says it’s okay that strangers think they’re fucking each-other, right?

 

The lady keeps on talking while occasionally looking at her husband for back-up, and her husband just nods in response. Clearly she’s the talkative one of the two.

 

At least, that’s what Stiles thought.

 

As the train slows down to come to a halt at the next station, the elderly couple gather their things to leave, but before they exit the compartment, the old man turns to Hot-Guy, making Hot-Guy raise his eyebrows in question.

 

“Good luck with your young fella there, my wife and I also met when she was just a young girl and I was already and old geezer. Don’t feel nothing of that in the bedroom.” The old man gives Hot-Guy a meaningful wink and Stiles tries to disappear into his seat, holding a hand over his face in embarrassment while muttering an ‘oh my god’.

 

Stiles definitely keeps entirely to himself the rest of the ride, trying to keep from turning his head to Hot-Guy even when he’s certain he can feel the guy’s eyes on him, and he thanks the lord and all the angels above that he has to get out the next stop.

 

This has definitely been a wonderful day so far, and it hasn’t even started yet. He grunts at that thought while rubbing a hand across his face again. He must have been some evil bastard in his previous life to deserve this type of torture.

 

The moment the train starts slowing down he quickly grabs his binder and miraculously manages to vocalize a quick ‘bye’ as he practically runs out of the compartment towards the nearest exit.

 

He needs coffee, lots of it and quick!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had absolutely no idea what this chapter was going to entail, all I had written down of this part was the title “Not Ladylike” and a vision of some woman rubbing her tits in Peter’s face…
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you like it! –x-
> 
> Ps: Yesterday I suddenly got really sick, so I couldn’t finish it due to…well…let’s just say nasty stuff involving a bathroom… but I was adamant about finishing it today, even with this fever, so if the English etc. sucks… *sorry* =/ 
> 
> Pps: oh, and Miley Cyrus’ twerk-performance… seriously?? o_O

 

 

 **2** **. Not Ladylike**

 

His first day went fairly well actually – minus the Train-Incident as his mind had so thoughtfully christened it right after. Luckily the Tech-Department is seated on the second floor of the ten-story building, so he had enough time to buy and gulp down his Extra Grande black coffee and actually get there on time.

 

Betty is still at the shop, apparently the mechanic working on her found a few of her other flaws and managed to start working on those without his permission, so that’ll cost him a large chunk of his savings. _The bastard_.

 

He’s just lucky Hale is one of the few companies that sponsors intern-ships, so he actually gets paid. It’s not much, but at least it’ll provide him some petty-cash to get groceries and stuff. Who said living on your own would be easy?

 

He thinks it was Lydia, but then again, what the hell does she know about ‘getting by’, she’s already loaded through birth ánd managed to set up a small company that makes a small fortune selling ideas to companies that are looking at a near-future bankruptcy.

 

The only reason she got Stiles into the Hale-Company with ease is because she also sells information about companies that are on the verge of bankruptcy – apparently that’s legal, but knowing Lydia she probably somehow managed to make it legal herself – and Hale has made a lot of money on her company’s inside information.  

 

It’s not that Stiles isn’t good enough at what he does to get into a company like that, he most definitely is, but Hale is well-known for its extremely strict selection-protocol, and they only take in about 5 interns a year – and that’s not even per division!

 

Anyway, with Betty still sick, he’s forced to take the train again, and it’s not like he’d been thinking about Hot-Guy or anything – especially not in the privacy of his own bed last night – but he just can’t help but wonder if he’ll see him again today, and he might’ve put on a shirt and pants that bring out his best features just in case.

 

The guy probably doesn’t even like guys, or worse he has a girlfriend – or even worse, he’s married, although Stiles doesn’t remember a wedding-band and he’s had a pretty good look at the man’s very masculine hands –, but still, that doesn’t mean Stiles can’t try and look as enticing as possible, right?

 

After all, there’s nothing wrong with trying to look your best.

 

He’s on time this time and when he’s standing in front of the compartment he takes in a deep breath and opens the door. Well, at least that answers thát question, because sitting in the exact same spot as the day before is none other than Hot-Guy, looking straight at Stiles the moment he walks in and giving him a curious smile.

 

“No attempted assaults on innocent bystanders today I take it?” The man says with a smirk while briefly glancing at his watch.

 

Stiles doesn’t even know how to respond to that, because Hot-Guy’s smile had suddenly faltered as he dropped his gaze and was letting it roam all the way up his body in silence, an eyebrow quirked up while looking a little perplexed.

 

He’d have to thank Lydia for taking him shopping, because she was right, this outfit apparently does make him look really good. Either that or the guy is seriously doubting his sense of fashion right now, but he’s choosing to believe the former.

 

When the guy’s eyes lock with his again, Stiles just smiles and takes the same seat as the day before, after all, they’re alone now and he’s still a bit mortified over what happened the other day – and taking a seat opposite Hot-Guy is definitely out of the question, because that’s just asking for a train-wreck to happen (so to speak of course).

 

They have a few more minutes before the train leaves, and Stiles inconspicuously glances at Hot-Guy who’s busy working on some paperwork again.

 

The guy is wearing another tailored suit, jacket draped over his briefcase, but placed neatly between his legs this time, and again, the suit is nothing that makes him look dusty and old. This guy definitely knows how to rock casual office-wear like a model, because _damn_.

 

Of course it isn’t enough for the guy to provide Stiles with enough spank-bank material involving office-scenes to last him a life-time. Oh no, Hot-Guy apparently thought it also a great idea to wear a tight black shirt with a V-neck so deep, that it makes Stiles want to dive in and live there for all eternity.

 

He’s staring, he definitely needs to stop staring right now. And drooling. _Fuck_.

 

Pondering on something to say to maybe start a conversation of some sort – preferably not one that makes him look like a total idiot – the door suddenly opens and a woman literally stumbles inside slurring a couple of cuss-words. This can’t be good.

 

The woman looks – and smells – like she just worked the streets, but Stiles guesses she came from a party or something. She’s obviously still drunk. The compartment fills with the smell of sweat, smoke and booze as she slumps down in the seat next to Hot-Guy, who is glaring at her anything but amused.

 

She has long platinum-blonde hair that has wet spots sticking together, probably from either sweat or vomit – or maybe both –  and Stiles can’t help but scrunch up his nose. She’s hanging – almost laying – in her seat, checking her phone while smacking some overly sweet-smelling pink bubblegum, blowing half-bubbles at random intervals, making them pop in an utmost annoying way.

 

Stiles looks over at Hot-Guy who’s looking straight at him, and he can’t help the blush that’s creeping up his cheeks again.

 

Hot-Guy does something with his eyes and eyebrows, clearly trying to communicate, and miraculously enough, Stiles knows exactly what the guy is saying. It’s somewhere along the lines of ‘please tell me she’s joking?’, and Stiles just raises his eyebrows in response while shrugging, because ‘no’, apparently she’s not.

 

He watches how Hot-Guy shuffles in his seat a bit, clearly trying to get away from the woman as far as possible and almost becoming one with the window in the process. Stiles can’t help but snort at the sight, earning a death-glare in response. Alas Stiles gets his own piece of the pie when he turns his head and looks in front of him at the woman in question.

 

She’s sitting with her legs spread, giving Stiles a full view of what’s hidden underneath her embarrassingly short skirt, and either she’s wearing invisible panties or she’s not wearing any at all. Stiles is willing to bet on the latter and he can feel his cheeks flush up all the way to his neck.

 

Suddenly the sound of Miley Cyrus echoes through the small room and Stiles and Hot-Guy actually roll their eyes at the sky in despair at exactly the same time. _See, they’re already n-sync_ , Stiles thinks as his attention is suddenly drawn back to the woman in front of him.

 

“Gina? Fucking A chica! You’ll never guess what happened to me! Yeah, you know that one guy with the tats, he totally went down on me in a bathroom stall, it was so freaking hot!”

 

Stiles can’t help but snort at that again, looking over at Hot-Guy who is dragging a hand across his face, taking his bottom lip down with it while muttering an ‘oh my god’. It takes everything in his power to not burst out in laughter as the woman chews her gum very audibly again, blowing a big bubble and making it burst while using a finger to push the pink lump back inside her mouth.

 

“Yeah… yeah… no… okay, see ya later biatch! Okay, bye!”

 

Thank GOD she hangs up. Although, thanking god might’ve been a little too soon of a celebration.

 

Seemingly suddenly aware of her company, the woman looks at Stiles – or at least, she narrows her eyes, trying to focus them a little at the spot where Stiles is sitting – before snapping her head to the side and ogling at Hot-Guy, literally checking him up and down while obnoxiously smacking her gum.

 

“Oh my,” she slurs in appreciation, and Hot-Guy starts to shift in his seat again, clearly not liking the intonation with which she just said that.

 

The woman leans over to Hot-Guy, using her arms to press her breasts – that were already almost falling out of her top – into an obscene cleavage, clearly willing the guy to be impressed. Hot-Guy is now definitely starting to look plain pissed.

 

“I’m terribly sorry, I’m afraid I don’t have any cash on me right now,” the guy notes with a dry tone of voice, and Stiles can’t keep it in any longer and just starts to laugh wholeheartedly.

 

“Hey!” The woman says somewhat insulted. “That’s no way to treat a lady!”

 

“Well, let’s just be thankful that you’re not a lady then, shall we?” Hot-Guy deadpans and Stiles has to pinch his nose to keep down the snorting, because he just can’t help but find this all seriously hilarious.

 

The woman huffs and leans back in her seat again, looking at Stiles.

 

“What are you laughing at, you little worm?!” This makes Stiles snap his mouth tightly shut, not able to stop his body from convulsing though.

 

As the train starts to slow down, the woman glares at Stiles a little cross-eyed before scrambling to her feet and walking to the door.

 

The woman stops before getting out and bends over sticking her ass backwards into the compartment.

 

“Twerk,” she says as she moves her ass up and down before straightening up – at least as straight as she’s able to get – before stumbling out of the compartment and closing the door.

 

“Did she just?” Stiles turns towards Hot-Guy with eyes so wide he can almost feel them falling from their sockets.

 

“Yes,” Hot-Guy says, looking utterly stunned at the door before turning towards Stiles. “Yes I believe she actually did.”

 

“You know, that’s not very ‘lady-like!’,” Stiles yells after her while they both bark out in laughter.

 

“Peter,” Hot-Guy says while holding out a hand after wiping away a tear. Stiles looks at the hand briefly before shaking it.

 

“Stiles,” he offers, making the man raise an eyebrow. “It’s a nickname,” Stiles provides, earning an ‘ah’ in response.

 

Apparently Hot-Guy, um ‘Peter’, gets off at the same stop as Stiles, and they share a little goodbye and a wave before Stiles turns to the nearest coffee-shop to get his daily starter.

 

This is definitely turning out to be good day.


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

**3\. The Kids Are Alright**

 

 

Okay, so he might’ve come across a small problem, nothing major, just a slight turn of events that wasn’t really something he planned on or accounted for.

 

He’s definitely developed a major crush on Hot-Guy Peter, and it’s driving him absolutely insane!

 

He doesn’t even know the guy – well, except that he looks mind-bogglingly hot in a suit and oozes hotness from just about every pore in his body, ánd that he’s capable of throwing out a perfect snark in times of need, but besides that _nada._

 

And seeing as Scott’s still away on his trip around the world with Allison – god, he misses his best bro – , he turned to Lydia for advice. Big mistake.

 

Basically she told him to quit the pouting and self-pitying and just climb the guy like a tree already, which, yeah, not going to happen anytime soon.

 

There was something off when he told her about him though. He described what the guy looked like and told her his name, that he got off at the same stop, and suddenly she got this weird look in her eyes, the one she always gets when she’s calculating something and figuring something out.

 

He asked her what was wrong, but she just feigned innocence and pursed her lips saying it was nothing before she suddenly started laughing – or rather ‘cackling’ – straight to his face. Why did he ever like her again?

 

Anyway, when he got to the train, he was fidgeting with his skinny-jeans – courtesy of Lydia – trying to feel a bit less uncomfortable with the feeling of practically exposing himself, before he walked into the compartment.

 

Seriously, who’d ever wear these things for fun is beyond him, but then again, Lydia had been right, they do bring out his ass in a really _really_ good way, and who needs to move normally in their daily life anyway. He just hopes his skin is able to breathe enough to not turn black and die before this day is over.

 

Then again, the once-over Peter gave him when he walked in the compartment was definitely worth the pain and lack of comfort, because the guy almost dropped his paperwork. Score!

 

Peter had pulled out the side-table, and it struck him as a bit odd that the table held two cups, but before he even had a chance to sit down, Peter grabbed one of them and held it up.

 

“Here, you look like you might need this,” Peter says with a courteous smile.

 

“Oh wow, I think you might’ve just saved my life,” he retorted while taking the cup, because seriously, the guy got him coffee? He might be in love.

 

“It’s nothing. I saw the way you practically ran towards the coffeeshop yesterday, and I was getting one for myself anyway, so.”

 

Stiles decides to take a chance, so he sits down opposite Peter – what? That’s a pretty big thing in Stiles’ books! – while silently sipping his coffee. It’s black and strong, just the way he likes it, because apparently Peter has to be perfect in all ways possible so that Stiles has more material to weep over when at home alone.

 

Peter is wearing a light-blue dress-shirt and dark-blue jeans today, and Stiles would mourn the loss of v-necks if it wasn’t for the fact that this shirt was a tight-fit and the sleeves where rolled up again. The fabric was so light, in both senses, that Stiles could actually see the man’s chest-hair and the outline of his nipples (if the light fell just right and he strained his eyes a bit, but still).

 

Okay, so maybe Lydia was right, maybe he was just being plain pathetic, maybe he should just take a big chance and ask for the guy’s phone-number, or invite him to dinner, or –

 

Alas, before he even has a chance to open his mouth, the door slid open and a woman is pushing two children into the compartment while looking around a little frantic.

 

“Oh, wonderful!” she says after looking Stiles up and down with a somewhat judging look. “Could you please look after them for a bit, I lost my son and I really need to go find him, I promise I’ll be right back!”

 

Before Stiles even has a chance to protest, the lady already ran away, calling for her son – Geoffrey –  while closing the door behind her.

 

The kids, two girls, one about six and the other about eight or nine stand there looking at Stiles with big doe-eyes while holding their little backpacks in front of their bodies.

 

“Seriously, do I have a sign of my forehead saying ‘I’m gay, please leave your under-aged female-children in my care’ or something?”

 

“Well…” Peter teasingly notes with a shrug. _Asshole._

 

“We have an uncle that’s gay,” the oldest of the girls suddenly says with a smile while hopping into the seat beside Stiles, almost climbing into his lap.

 

“Oh my god…”

 

The other girl visibly hesitates for a bit before actually taking a seat on his lap, and Stiles would protest if it wasn’t for the fact that he has a major soft-spot for children in general.

 

Peter tried to cover up the fact that he was laughing at him by coughing into his fist. _Fuck his life_.

 

The youngest girl seemed to be mesmerized by the older man – and to be honest, Stiles doesn’t blame her –, so Stiles looks at Peter and starts smirking in the most devious way, clearly making the man a little nervous.

 

“What’s your name, sweety?” Stiles asks the little girl with exaggerated interest, a big grin on his face while keeping his eyes locked with Peter’s.

 

“Rosie, it’s short for Rosanna,” the little girl says, and Stiles looks at her briefly before looking straight at Peter again, making the man actually take an audible gulp, before Stile starts pointing at him.

 

“Rosie, what a beautiful name! Well, Rosie, my name is ‘Stiles’, would you maybe like to sit on ‘Uncle Peter’s’ lap over there for a while? I’m sure he’d just _love_ to hear all about your friends and what you’ve done at school this year!”

 

Peter’s face visible drops and he’s trying to mime a ‘no no no no’ while flapping a hand from side to side. His lame attempt gets caught off by Rosie suddenly turning her head around, making Peter smile a very strained smile and turning his hand-flap into a sudden wave.

 

The little girl hops off of Stiles’ lap and into Peter’s within seconds, staring at the man with big glassy eyes, and Peter throws him a death-glare before starting a forced conversation about glitter.

 

Stiles want to laugh, but he suddenly notices the other girl staring at him with the same glassy eyes. _Oh fuck._

 

“My name is Gabby, it’s short for Gabriella,” the girl says like she’s just fallen in love.

 

Peter snorts, and Stiles gives him the evil-eye before turning back to Gabby.

 

“Well Gabby,” and before he has a chance to finish his sentence the girl hops into his lap, trying to look all innocent.

 

“Yes, okay, or we can do that,” Stiles says while trying to think of something that can keep the girl occupied. He suddenly has an epiphany and reaches for his pocket, getting out his phone.

 

“You wanna play a game?” He says while holding up his phone, and the girl nods instantly while grabbing the device, already tapping away on it like a pro.

 

While Gabby starts playing a game, he looks over at Peter, who has provided Rosie with some colorful markers and she’s busy drawing on the back of one of his documents, tip of her tongue clenched between her teeth and peaking out of her mouth.

 

Stiles looks up and locks eyes with Peter, who just shrugs in response. Stiles almost melts on the spot, because that is definitely the most adorable thing he’s ever seen, and that includes that picture of that puppy-pile.

 

He’s snapped out of his daze by the sound of his phone, the ringtone indicating it’s Lydia calling, but before he has a chance to take his phone from the girl, she already pressed the green button and answers.

 

“Hello? This is Gabby, mommy left us with Stiles and Peter because Geoffrey ran away again… ”

 

There’s a silence, and he watches how Gabby nods, her mouth wide open in concentration, and when the girl says ‘okay, I’ll tell him’ before pulling the phone away from her ear, Stiles can hear Lydia’s evil cackle coming from the speaker just before the little girl hits the end-call button. This doesn’t bode well.

 

Gabby hands Stiles his phone back before jumping up and down eagerly on his lap to indicate she really wants him to give him her message, so Stiles puts on a smile and looks at her expectantly.

 

“She says ‘good luck with your daddy’ and that she hopes that you’ll finally get some,” Gabby spills with glee, obviously proud of the fact that she managed to transfer the message in such a good way.

 

Stiles face-palms himself instantly, mumbling an ‘oh my god’ while slumping down in his seat and hiding his eyes with his hand. Of course she said that, because Lydia is the devil reincarnated.

 

He looks over at Peter briefly, seeing the man’s mouth quirked up in a smirk while keeping his eyes on Rosie’s artwork, when Gabby taps his leg.

 

“Stiles?” Gabby asks with a frown.

 

“Yes sweety?” he sighs while looking at her.

 

“What does she hope you to get?”

 

_Oh my god..._

 

“New friends”, Stiles mutters while rethinking all of his life’s choices.

 

“She hopes that I’ll get some new friends,” because he’s definitely going to kill Lydia when he sees her!

 

The lady comes to collect her children just before they have to get out, so Stiles doesn’t get a chance to actually ask Peter anything personal, and they part ways after exiting the carriage again, Peter giving him a wave with a grin while shortly shaking his head as if amazed by the way they keep meeting.

 

Well, that makes two of them, because this is starting to become a pattern.  


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter's pov ^^
> 
> Hope you like it! xo

 

 

**4\. Brotherly Love**

 

 

He gets into his office and casually swings his jacket across the chair when he notices the mother-of-pearl colored envelope on his desk.

 

After opening it and uncovering the +1 invitation for the opening of the new Jamie Oliver restaurant in town, he immediately pulls out his phone.

 

“Lydia, what is this?”

 

“Oh, hello Peter, how nice of you to call, yes I’m doing great, thank you for asking.”

 

“I’m flattered, honestly, but you do know my taste requires some parts that I’m pretty sure you haven’t acquired yet – although I’m still not sure about the ‘balls’ part, because with the shit I’ve seen you pull you must be packing…”

 

“Oh Peter Peter Peter, always the charmer,” He swears he can actually hear her file her nails through the phone. “But you must know by now that I’m way out of your league, even if I were to magically grow a penis overnight.”

 

It’s amazing how Lydia can always make everything sound polite and sophisticated, even when talking about genitalia. He remembers one time when she told a company-executive who’d just lost his company that he was a worthless piece of crap, yet she still managed to make it sound and look like she was actually comforting him.

 

He’s seen wild-animals chew up their live prey with more honest compassion.

 

“Anyway,” Lydia snaps him out of his thoughts. “It’s strictly business of course. I helped Jamie get into that prime-location, and as we both know it’s rude to turn down an invitation. Alas I can’t go, so you’ll have to take my place. I’m sure you’ll be able to find some willing invitee to accompany you. Good? Okay. Have a lovely day Peter.”

 

And just like that she hangs up, leaving Peter looking stunned at his phone before putting it away. Always a pleasure to do business with Miss. Martin.

 

The thought of what Lydia might do to him if he doesn’t show up on Friday makes a chill run down his spine, so he’ll definitely be attending. But Lydia already knew he would.

 

Now all he needs is a date.

 

He knows lots of men that would come running at his beck and call if he’d give them a ring, but he can’t help but let his mind wander elsewhere.

 

To a certain young clumsy guy who makes wearing skinny jeans seem like a crime, to be exact.

 

He has been consciously avoiding the dating-scene for a while now – not counting the occasional booty-call here and there – but this kid that’s been livening up his usually boring mornings has somehow managed to get under his skin.

 

He’s noticed the way the kid has been staring at him, but then again how could he have not, seeing as Stiles apparently doesn’t know discreteness if it’d hit him in the face.

 

And Peter will definitely deny the fact that he’s been purposely dressing a bit more, um, ‘enticing’ the last couple of days – he didn’t wear a V that deep again though, as he was honestly afraid the kid would die of an aneurism.

 

There is a difference with finding someone attractive and being willing to go out to dinner with them though, and he also knows there’s a small age-gap between them (okay, so maybe a considerable age-gap, but let’s not dwell on minor details here). 

 

Perhaps he should just take a chance and invite the kid next time he sees him? They’ve been sharing the same compartment all week now, so tomorrow shouldn’t be any different, right? And after all, what’s the worst that could happen, except for Stiles declining his offer?

 

Yes, he’ll invite Stiles to the opening tomorrow-morning, it’s settled.

 

+++

 

What he hadn’t accounted for was what actually happened the next morning.

 

He was sitting in the compartment, reading a newspaper with two cups of coffee on the table beside him – after all, apparently coffee was the way to Stiles’ heart – when Peter started to worry that the kid wouldn’t show.

 

He only had like two minutes left before the train would depart, and if Stiles hadn’t entered yet, he was sure to miss it.

 

Maybe the kid didn’t take the train anymore, maybe it was just a ‘few-times’ deal? That could definitely be it. After all, Peter hadn’t seen the kid before the last couple of days and he’s been a commuter for years. That and he’s sure he’d notice someone like Stiles if he had been taking the same train before, right?

 

After contemplating some doom-scenarios in his head, ranging from ‘he’s changed compartments because he’s too embarrassed to face him again after the last couple of fiascos’ to ‘maybe he’s had a horrible accident and is laying in a hospital-bed somewhere’, the sound of a whistle startles him out of his thoughts.

 

As the train starts to move, he’s cursing into his coffee for not having taken a chance earlier, when suddenly the door slides open with a bang and an out of breath Stiles comes barging into the compartment, panting and flailing before plummeting into a seat.

 

“Djesus Christ!” The kid gasps out in heavy breaths. “I honestly thought I was fucked there for a second!”

 

The choice of words makes Peter choke a little on a sip of coffee, but he can’t help but grin in his cup at the actual thought of Stiles being fucked. Stiles wipes away some of the sweat from his forehead still looking and sounding like he just ran a marathon, when he suddenly looks at Peter.

 

“Sorry ‘bout that, but I think I’ve just seen my life flash before my eyes, and shit like that really makes you reconsider some of your life’s choices.” He gives Peter a toothy grin before straightening himself out, and Peter just sips at his coffee, grinning and enjoying the boy’s dramatic performance.

 

“Here,” he offers as he holds out the second cup, and Stiles looks at it a little perplexed before reaching out and taking it from Peter’s hand.

 

“Thanks,” he says shyly as he cradles the cup with two hands and takes a sip.

 

Peter is just about to open his mouth when the sound of The Bloodhound Gang playing Bad Touch echoes through the compartment – yes, Peter knows that song, he _has_ been to gay-clubs when it first came out.

 

Stiles scrambles for his phone his face visibly lit up as he excitedly mutters a few sorry’s in Peter’s direction, throwing in a few hand-gestures indicating that he _really_ needs to take this call.

 

Peter watches how Stiles picks up with a big smile plastered across his face, and he can’t help but feel a little curious as to who it is that can make the kid smile like that. Well, that question is answered fairly quickly.

 

“Scott!? Oh my god, man, I’ve missed you so much! I can’t talk long because I’m on the train, but where the hell are you?!”

 

Peter sees how Stiles’ eyes widen as he listens to ‘Scott’ talk, his mouth visibly dropping.

 

“You’re what? No shit! Oh my god! I love you man!”

 

And just like that, Peter literally feels his stomach drop, because of course.

 

Of course Stiles would have a boyfriend, how could he have been so stupid to think otherwise? He feels like a idiot, and just when he thinks this couldn’t get any worse, well, apparently he was wrong.

 

“…okay, yeah, I’ll be arriving at the next stop in about, say… two minutes, okay, great! I’m in 511, see you in a few!”

 

Oh great, not only does the kid have a boyfriend, but now he also gets to watch them be all clammy and couple-y together right in front of his face. How utterly wonderful.

 

As the train comes to a halt at the next stop, Peter honestly thinks things can’t get any worse than this, but that is until the compartment door slides open and ‘Scott’ enters the small room.

 

Of course he looks really good, with a big lopsided smile and a puppy-dog expression, and even disgustingly cute dimples to top it off. Peter flings one leg over his other, angling himself as much towards the window as possible while burying his head in his newspaper. He’s not jealous. He’s not.

 

He’s not jealous of the way the two boys practically jump each-other in greeting and hug as if their lives depend on it, and he’s definitely not jealous of the way Stiles tells him how much he’s missed him over and over again while practically humping the other boy.

 

And he’s certainly not listening in on their conversation.

 

“So, how’s your dad dealing with living alone?”

 

“What, if you’re wondering if he’s been stuffing his face with carbs and fat the day I moved out, nah, I think Melissa’s got that covered.”

 

“Yeah, mom’s been looking for someone to keep tracks on since I left home…”

 

Oh how lovely, they live together. Peter shifts a little in his seat, willing the coffee-induced bile back down his throat. He’s not jealous, not one bit. He thinks it’s wonderful that a good-looking and funny kid like Stiles has someone who loves him. Wonderful.

 

“Oh, hey, Allison is waiting at the next stop with the car, we could drive you to work, gives us a chance to catch up?”

 

The train already starts to slow down again, and Peter watches from the corner of his eyes how Stiles jumps up and gives his boyfriend another tight bearhug, clearly ready to take him up on that offer.

 

“Awesome man!” Stiles says as he grabs his things and follows ‘Scott’ out of the compartment. “You’re seriously my _bestest_ best friend ever!”

 

Peter drops his paper and facepalms himself after the door closes shut.

 

_Friends?_ Shit.


	5. Chapter 5

 

**5\. Family Matters**

 

 

He’s so ecstatic about Scott and Allison’s early return, that he hasn’t been able to think of anything else all day. Scott and Alli have been drowning him in as many stories about their adventures as possible during the short trip to his work, and when he arrived his head was literally fuller than full.

 

They agreed to have dinner over the weekend so they can show pictures and tell him the rest, and he’s so happy for them both, that they have each-other, that his bro found that someone special to share these kind of things with.

 

Okay, so maybe he has been thinking about other things too. Like the fact that he doesn’t have anybody to share those kind of things with, and that thought had automatically brought him back to Peter.

 

Peter, who he doesn’t even really know. Peter, who he ran out on without even having the decency to say goodbye. Peter. Fuck! He didn’t even say goodbye to the man who’s been bringing him life-saving coffee. He is such an asshole sometimes!

 

He already called the shop and Betty will be done on Monday, so he can pick her up after work then, which means he only has to ride the train for two more days. If he wants to do something about his infatuation with Peter, he has to move fast.

 

Of course the thought of actually asking the man if he might want to see him again outside of their usual train-rides makes him nervous as hell. And seeing as dealing with problems isn’t really his strong-suit, he spends the evening going over all sorts of scenario’s in his head, which led to him drinking maybe a little bit too much alcohol.

 

Which, in turn, leads to another disaster. He drunk-calls Lydia.

 

“This better be good…”

 

“Lydia, my queen, my darling, my flawless nimf –”

 

“Don’t tell me things I already know and tell me why you found it absolutely necessary to call me at _one in the morning_ _on a work-day_ while sounding drunk off your ass?”

 

Stiles is amazed how she’s always able to get out sentences thát long without having to breathe. _Flawless Queen_.

 

“I need _he_ help –”

 

“Clearly.”

 

“Oh _har har_ , no, I need help because I think I might be in love and it sucks balls.”

 

“And here was me thinking ‘sucking balls’ was a positive quality…”

 

“Ugh, no, seriously, Lydia, this sucks – I mean, he doesn’t suck, I suck, but not really, because there’s no sucking going on, because I suck, you know what I mean?”

 

“You know, Stiles, sometimes I worry about you. But, seeing as I have the day off tomorrow anyway, and because I actually pity you for your lack of an actual life, I’m going to let you wallow into my ear and pray to god you’re actually able to get out what it is you want to wallow about in at least a few coherent English sentences.”

 

“Hey, my _cohur_ – _coheres_ – _co_ – oh fuck it, my English is perfectly fine, thank you very _muchas_!”

 

“Yes, very nice, now get on with it.”

 

“I might be in love and I’m an idiot – ”

 

“ _Lydia?_ ”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was waiting for you to tell me something new.”

 

“Ugh, you need to help _meeee_.”

 

“Okay, I’m just going to assume you’re talking about this Peter that you met on the train?” Of course she doesn’t await an answer because it wasn’t really a question to begin with.

 

“Get your head out of your ass and ask the man to dinner, and if you wake me up again I’ll make sure there won’t be any balls left to suck, okay? Okay. Goodnight Stiles – Oh, and keep next friday-night open.”

 

He’s looking at his phone a little dumbstruck, trying to let her last words sink in before he replies.

 

“Wait, what? Why – ” But of course Lydia has already hung up.

 

Well that’s just great, wonderful, really helpful.

 

He desperately needs another drink.

 

+++

 

Oh god, why did he have to have that last drink last night? He’s waiting for the aspirin to kick in and his head feels like it might actually explode. He’s never drinking again. _Okay, that’s a lie_.

 

He’s been repeating it over and over in his head, it’s a simple question, but knowing himself he’d still be able to fuck it up, so preparation is definitely necessary.

 

When he finally walks onto the platform and enters the train, he keeps repeating it a couple of more times, simultaneously trying to get his breathing under control. As he stands in front of the compartment he takes another deep breath before opening the door.

 

His mouth is hanging ajar, but words fail to come out, because Peter is sitting in his usual spot, a lap-top propped up on his lap, and beside him, hanging half on top of him, sits the most beautiful young brunette.

 

Stiles manages to close his mouth when both Peter and the young woman turn their heads towards him, and he gives them a little courteous wave before sitting down.

 

Peter smiles at him and looks like he wants to say something, but the woman nudges him while pointing to something on the screen and the moment is gone. Peter goes back to his business.

 

She’s gorgeous, with long dark-brown hair and a face – and body – like a model. And worst of all, they’re sitting so close that it’s obvious that they’re somehow involved.

 

Of course he has a girlfriend, and of course she’s ten years younger and beautiful, how could Stiles have been so utterly stupid. He feels like he’s just swallowed a brick as he reaches for his phone.

 

“Oh come on Peter, please, do it for me” the woman coos while practically rubbing her face in his neck. Stiles thinks he might be sick, but that might just be the remnants of his hangover.

 

 “You know you _love_ me,” the woman says and Stiles has heard enough.

 

“That I do,” Peter retorts with nothing but fondness as the woman clings to his arm like a new-born kitten. Okay, Stiles has now definitely heard enough.

 

He plugs in his earphones into his phone, puts them in his ears and starts up his playlist. He might not be able to drown out the visuals, but he sure as hell can drown out their conversation.

 

God, why did he ever think that a man like thát wouldn’t have some beautiful young woman hooked on his arm – literally!

 

He plays with his phone while listening to an old Red Hot Chili Peppers album, but he can’t help but feel like he’s being watched.

 

When he glances up he sees the woman staring at him before turning back to Peter and Stiles watches how her mouth moves as she squeezes his arm while pinching his cheek and curling up into the man even more – which Stiles initially didn’t even think was possible, but _tadaah._

 

They’re probably talking about him. Peter has probably told her about Stiles’ little crush, after all, it’s not like he hasn’t been totally obvious about it, with all the staring and stuttering. They’re probably talking about how pathetic he is, or worse, she’s cooing about how cute it is that the kid has got a crush on her man. Ugh, he wants to die.

 

He’s so drunk-calling Lydia again tonight.

 

+++

 

“Is that him? He’s cute!”

 

“Shut up, Laura…”

 

“No seriously, he looks like hot jailbait, you should definitely do him.”

 

“Will you shush it, Laura, he might hear you, you’re embarrassing me, let’s just focus on what you’re here for, okay? And stop looking at him like that!”

 

“Aw, does uncle Peter have a little _crushy-wushy_ –”

 

“Pinch my cheek again and I will rip off your arm and disown you.”

 

“No you won’t because you _luv_ me. Plus you just invested a shitload of money in my new company, and you’d never compromise that.”

 

“Point. Can we just finish this so you can _skedaddle_.”

 

“Aw how cute, do you want a little alone time with your new jailbait lover?”

 

“Laura…”

 

+++

 

 

The moment the train slows down, Stiles doesn’t know how to get out of there fast enough, mumbling a barely audible ‘bye’ without looking back.

 

_This day sucks._

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was lacking a little inspiration, but I hope you still like the ending... =/
> 
> I am planning on doing a little epilogue...
> 
> Hope you like it! 
> 
> (this was my first attempt at fluff without it all leading to fingers and other things entering holes, so... it was a really tough journey tbh ^^)
> 
> -x-

 

 

**+1. Collision**

 

 

“Would you stop looking all sad and goo-y eyed, you’re drooling and blubbering all over the mother-board. For God’s sake Stiles, would you just get laid already, preferably this weekend, before the sight of your disgusting wallowing is gonna make me wanna gauge my eyes out with a pen? Nobody likes a cry-baby, so suck it up!”

 

It’s nice to have a heart to heart like this with his department supervisor Erica at the end of the day, she always knows just what to say to make him feel much better.

 

“Thanks boss, I feel much better about my non-existent love-life already,” he sighs while bumping his head against his desk.

 

Erica swats him on the back of his head before she walks to the elevator to leave.

 

“Ow!” That actually hurt.

 

“Get laid, Stiles!” She yells – or rather ‘orders’ – just before the elevator-doors close.

 

This has so not been his week.

 

+++

 

He didn’t drunk-call Lydia that evening, so that’s a plus.

 

He did however managed to become extremely drunk at Scott and Allison’s on Saturday, and he might’ve told them about Peter and his stupid gorgeous face and his even more stupid gorgeous girlfriend.

 

Okay, so he was hammered and he definitely wallowed in self-pity until he fell asleep on their couch, but they didn’t seem to mind. They kept telling him that Peter is an idiot and that Stiles deserves much better anyway, which, yeah, not really helpful but it did make him feel a bit better at the time.

 

He spent the whole Sunday nursing a hangover from hell, trying to get himself together. After all, he did have to ride the train one more time, which meant he had to see Peter one more time, and he was adamant to show the world that he really didn’t care that the man had a beautiful girlfriend. And by world he of course meant ‘Peter’.

 

He wanted to show Peter that he didn’t care that he has a girlfriend, he wants the man to know that Stiles is not some pathetic kid who just spent his whole weekend drinking and wallowing because he just found out his stupid crush is already taken.

 

Stiles Stilinski is better than that, Stiles Stilinski is a confident young man who can get any piece of ass if he really wants to and he doesn’t need stupid Peter and his stupid suits and his stupid goatee and his stupid V-necks _at all_.

+++

 

 

Stiles Stilinski is currently shitting himself.

 

He's standing in front of the train and he’s stalling. He can do this, he can definitely do this, there’s absolutely nothing to worry about. He’s just going to get in there and say ‘hi’ and sit down and enjoy the view – the view outside, not Peter, he didn’t mean Peter! – and get off - of the train, not 'get off' on Peter, djeez - and walk away. Easy.

 

He gets in the and walks to the compartment, takes a deep breath before sliding the door open and walking in. Peter’s there, of course he’s there, and he looks really good, because of course he does. He says ‘hi’, Peter says ‘hi’ back, and he sits down. See, easy.

 

After the train started moving and it has become clear that they’ll be sharing the compartment alone this time,  he’s trying to keep himself occupied by tapping out a few text-messages on his phone, trying to keep his focus away from Peter, but he can feel the man watching him and it’s making him nervous.

 

It comes to a point that his nerves are, um, well ‘nerve wracking’, and he can’t take it anymore.

 

“What?” He suddenly snaps, startling the older man a bit. He regains himself quickly enough though, folding up his news-paper and leaning towards Stiles a bit.

 

“I eh – I wanted to ask you something. I wanted to ask you if – ”

 

Suddenly the sound of shrieking metal fills the air and everything gets thrown through the compartment, including Stiles who was sitting on the wrong side for his back to take the blow and got thrown forward into the opposite seat.

 

For what seems like an eternity everything seems eerily quiet and when Stiles opens his eyes and tries to scramble to his feet from his current position on the other side of the compartment, the quiet suddenly gets drowned out by the sound of people panicking.

 

He manages to get back into his seat, seemingly unharmed except for a dull throb in his wrist, but his mind and vision are still fuzzy. That’s when he suddenly feels the way his heart starts to beat faster and faster, the sound of the beats becoming overwhelming while he’s starting to feel like he can’t breathe.

 

It hurts, it hurts so bad he would’ve thought he was having a heart-attack if he didn’t recognize the feeling for what is was.

 

_He’s having a panic-attack._

 

The small room is spinning and blurry and the sound of people’s muffled voices get drowned out by a familiar voice calling his name.

 

“Stiles? Stiles, come on, you need to look at me. Look at me Stiles.”

 

He feels how two hands are cupping his cheeks and he tries to focus on the figure squatting down in front of him between his legs. He blink s a couple of times, trying to breathe, but it comes out in short gasps and he feels like something is blocking his airway.

 

“Stiles, look at me,” the voice says and he blinks again until he’s looking straight into the piercing blue eyes of the figure in front of him. Peter.

 

“I’m having a panic-attack,” he manages to get out, but his own voice sounds distant and foreign to his own ears.

 

A hand un-cups one side of his face and is wiping away the sweaty hair that’s plastered across his forehead.

 

“Shh shh, it’s gonna be okay, everything’s fine, some-one just pulled the emergency-brake, that’s all, it’s all fine.”

 

Peter tries to calm him down with words, keeping his eyes locked with Stiles’, but it does nothing to regulate his breathing, and then suddenly the man launches forward and he feels warm soft lips covering his own.

 

It startles him, and he can’t help but look cross-eyed down to the man in front of him who’s pressing his lips against his, kissing him with his eyes closed, but before he has a full comprehension of what the hell is happening, before he has a chance to react, Peter pulls back and looks at him again.

 

He can breathe again and the pain in his chest is starting to reside, but he can feel how his mouth is hanging agape as he’s looking at Peter with wide eyes. _What the fuck just happened?_

 

Peter has a girlfriend and he just kissed him, that’s what just happened. Did he just do it to calm him down? That must be it, it must’ve been nothing more than a trick to help him with his panic-attack.

 

“Thanks,” he manages to get out, still a bit disorientated and stunned. Peter huffs out a short laugh.

 

“My pleasure.”

 

Peter keeps looking at him, one hand still cupping his cheek, and Stiles really can’t handle this right now, he needs to get out of here _right now_. He pulls away and scrambles to his feet, going for the door.

 

“I need to go, I need to call Hale, I need to let Erica know that I’ll be late, I need to – I really need to go,” he rambles while pulling the door open and rushing off, leaving a stunned Peter behind.

 

“Hale? Stiles, wait – ” But Stiles is already gone.

 

+++

 

He managed to get out the train fairly easy, seeing as almost everybody already ran out the moment the doors opened – _while he was having a panic-attack and being kissed by Peter_ , but let’s not dwell on minor details here – , and luckily the train came to a stop not far from where he needed to get out anyway, so it didn’t take too long before get to the Hale-building and he was actually only about forty minutes late.

 

Erica was really understanding when he told her what had happened over the phone, so he had nothing to worry about and he was adamant about just going to work and doing his job and forget the whole kiss ever happened.

 

+++

 

He was thinking about the kiss for most of the day and it was driving him insane!

 

What did it mean? It couldn’t have meant anything, right? And what was Peter going to ask him before all hell broke loose? What if Peter was some closet-gay and he was looking for a hook-up on the side? Stiles was definitely not into that kind of drama. Although…

 

His thoughts were interrupted when Erica suddenly smacked a flat hand on his desk right beside him, and he almost fell out of his chair.

 

“Djesus Christ, Erica!”

 

“Snap out of it Stilinski, the boss wants to see you.” He can’t help but stare at her in utter confusion.

 

“Ehm, aren’t you supposed to be my boss?” Erica stands there with her arms crossed rolling her eyes so hard she might’ve just as well been judging the whole department.

 

“The _Big Boss_ ,” she sighs as if wondering why Stiles has to be so stupid, which ‘hey’, totally uncalled for.

 

“He’s at the tenth floor, office at the end of the hall,” she says as she starts walking away. “He’s not there yet, but he told me you can wait in his office,” Stiles just stares at her retreating backside for a few moments, blinking.

 

“Now, Stiles!” she orders while firmly flapping her hand towards the elevator, and he almost falls out of his chair again while scrambling to his feet and practically running to the elevator.

 

+++

 

Why the hell did Hale want to see him? Oh my god, what if he’s fired for being late today? What if he fucked up his work because he’s been daydreaming too much? Lydia is going to kill him.

 

He snorts at that. It is pretty funny that he’s worried more about being lynched by Lydia than about actually losing his internship-position. And thát says everything about Lydia and absolutely nothing about him by the way. She can be _hella_ scary.

 

He watches the double digits appear on the little glass screen and waits for the doors to open before walking through the long corridor towards the door at the end.

 

He briefly looks at the name on the door, saying P. Hale and walks in, leaving the door open behind him.

 

The office is really nice and really big. There’s a big desk in front of the wall of windows and the view is pretty impressive. He finds himself standing in front of the windows with his hands cradling each-other behind his back, trying not to think of all the doom-scenarios that have been going through his head the last 15 minutes, when suddenly he hears someone softly clearing their throat at the door.

 

“You wanted to see me Mr. – Peter?” His mouth is hanging open again, but to his defense, this time he has every reason to stare and be stunned, because casually standing there in the doorway is none other than Hot-Guy Peter. Peter who he’s been crushing on for over a week. Peter who has a girlfriend. Peter who kissed him this morning in an attempt to calm him down.

 

It suddenly dawns to him.

 

“Oh my god, You’re Peter _Hale_!”

 

“Your power of perception is truly amazing,” Peter playfully notes with a smirk while walking into the office and closing the door.

 

He’s been drooling over his boss. He’s been totally making an ass of himself in front of his boss. _He freaking kissed his boss!_

 

“ _Oh my god_ , I’m going to get fired aren’t I?” he mutters while dragging his hands across his face.

 

“I wouldn’t necessarily call it ‘getting fired’, but I do have a business-proposition for you,” the man says, still with a playful undertone as he walks towards his desk and takes a seat behind it.

 

“Why don’t you take a seat, Mr. Stilinski,” he gestures towards the seat on the other side of the desk and Stiles carefully takes the seat while fumbling with his hands. He’s avoiding every form of eye-contact, he just can’t look the man – _his freaking boss!_ – in the eyes right now.

 

“So – ” Peter, um ‘Mr. hale’ starts, but before he can continue Stiles suddenly cuts him off.

 

“I’m sorry about this morning!” he blurts out, and seriously, why does he have to remind the man of that catastrophe?

 

“Are you?” Peter says while leaning back into his chair. “I’m not.”

 

That definitely gets Stiles’ attention and he snaps his eyes towards the man, narrowing them a bit in question.

 

“But let me tell you my offer first before we talk about other things, shall we?” Stiles nods with his mouth hanging open again – and _damn-it_ what is wrong with his mouth, why can’t he just keep it closed!

 

“I’ve seen your file and your work and I’ve talked to Miss Reyes,” He pauses and leans forward, his arms on his desk with his hands folded. “Your credentials and work is really impressive, Stiles, and I already know that we don’t have a free position in our Tech-Department for anything other than interns.”

 

Stiles just keeps looking at him, confused and still blushing from embarrassment as Peter – ‘Mr. hale’, _fuck!_ – continues.

 

“So… I have a proposition for you. My niece has just started a new sister company and their TD still needs a leader. The job is yours if you want it, but only if you want it of course.”

 

Peter looks at him with small smile in the corner of his mouth and Stiles has trouble to comprehend what it is exactly that the man has just said, because _what?_

 

“Are you shitting me right now?” he exclaims and he immediately slaps a hand across his mouth, because thát definitely is no way to talk to your superior.

 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, _shit_ – okay I’m just going to stop talking right now.”

 

He can feel how his face is flushing beet-red and he’s trying to disappear as much in his chair as possible, trying to avoid the man’s eyes, when he hears and sees ‘Mr. Hale’ getting up from his seat in the corner of his eyes.

 

The man walks to his side and stops right beside him, facing him while leaning – half-sitting really – against his desk. He should not find this sexy, but he would be lying if he said that numerous fantasies he’s had lately didn’t start out exactly this way.

 

“Well?”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Seriously.”

 

“Fucking hell yes!” he blurts out, because head of a freaking Tech Department of a Hale Company, what the actual fuck!

 

Peter snorts at his reaction.

 

“Well, then that’s settled. I’ll let Laura know that the position has been fulfilled. You’ve briefly met my niece Laura, she’s the lovely but overly clingy brunette that accompanied me on the train the other day.”

 

“Your – your niece?” he was just getting up from his chair, but he almost falls back down again. _His niece?_

 

“Yes, Laura,” Peter confirms, clearly a little confused by Stiles’ reaction.

 

“Oh my god, I am such an idiot,” he mutters to the ceiling, not noticing the way Peter had walked closer towards him until they’re nearly standing toe to toe.

 

“That brings me to another ‘thing’ I’ve been wanting to address,” the man says, making Stiles snap his head back down again, suddenly very aware of their close proximity as he looks the man straight into his piercing blue eyes.

 

Before Stiles even has a chance to respond, the older man puts his hands on his hips and drags him in so close that their bodies are flush against one-another, and Stiles can’t breathe.

 

Peter raises a hand and lets the back of his fingers slide across his cheek while he scans Stiles’ face, and before the man can act, Stiles does it for him as he closes the distance between their mouths and kisses him with intent.

 

It’s Peter who breaks off the kiss, much to Stiles’ dismay, and the man takes a few steps back shaking his head as if trying to get himself together before he walks back behind his desk, leaning his hands on the top.

 

“We both need to get back to work, but we will definitely continue this ‘conversation’ soon, say Friday-night?”

 

“Friday-night?” Stiles suddenly remembers Lydia’s words, but before the pieces have a chance to fall together, Peter continues.

 

“Yes, we apparently have a dinner-date this Friday-night, courtesy of Miss Martin.”

 

_Click._

 

“Oh my god, of course! Lydia,” he huffs out a laugh while rolling his eyes at the sky. He remembers the calculated look Lydia had on her face after he told her about Peter the first time, and _of course_ Lydia had figured it all out right from the start.

 

He can’t help the stupidly big grin that’s plastered on his face as he walks towards the door – because he just totally scored big time! – when suddenly something dawns to him and makes him turn around.

 

“You know,” he says, catching Peter’s attention, who has apparently been staring at his ass and quickly snaps his eyes back up. Stiles grins at that and Peter just shrugs in response.

 

“I know what?”

 

“I somehow don’t think the train-accident with the emergency-brake this morning was really an ‘accident’,” he looks at the man pointedly, until he visibly sees how it also clicks in Peter’s head.

 

“Lydia,” he nods knowingly while slapping a palm to his forehead.

 

“Lydia.” Stiles confirms, and they both snort in amazement at the Being that is Lydia Martin as Stiles walks out of the office and closes the door behind him, grin still in place.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short Epilogue.

 

 

** Epilogue **

 

 

“Shit, why does your house have to have so many freakin’ locks?” His hands are embracing Peter’s waist and he’s leaning his chin on the man’s shoulder, kissing the man’s neck and shoulder as he waits for him to finally unlock the front door.

 

“Because I – _fuck_ – actually – _oh Christ_ can you stop with the tongue for just a few seconds?”

 

Stiles can’t help but smile smugly at the way his touches are making Peter fumble nervously with his keys, unable to get it into the locks – although it’s probably more ‘arousal’ than nerves that’s fueling the man’s lack of coordination right now. 

 

“Okay,” he says as he stops kissing and licking the man’s neck and instead pulls Peter’s hips back while pressing his own forward, rubbing himself against the man’s ass, letting a hand roam to the front of the man’s pants.

 

“Oh fuck this!” Peter suddenly says – or rather ‘growls’ – to no one in particular as he turns around and picks Stiles up from the ground as if he weighs nothing, making him hook his legs around his waist before turning back to the door again.

 

Stiles has to admit that he is a little impressed, but then again, Peter is really strong – and Stiles is definitely not complaining.

 

He lets his hands roam over the man’s arms, squeezing a bit, and ‘yup’ definitely a lot of hard muscle.

 

He hums contently at the thought of being mere moment away from seeing Peter’s hot body naked, when suddenly the feeling of a door behind him is replaced by the feeling of nothing and Peter walks them both inside while catching Stiles’ mouth with his own.

 

Stiles licks into the older man’s mouth eagerly, fisting a hand through the man’s hair while Peter throws the keys on the floor and kicks the door shut behind him before walking them both up the stairs.

 

 

+++

 

 

To be fair, they did attend the opening of Jamie’s new Restaurant, so Lydia has no right to be pissed. Plus, technically speaking this was all her fault to begin with, so.

 

Peter actually picked him up in some fancy-looking black car that had a chauffeur and Stiles had been really – really! – glad that Lydia insisted on taking him shopping and bought him some – overly expensive – outfit that made him look well-dressed but casually hot at the same time.

 

And Peter, well Peter was wearing a painfully deep V again, and he looked so damn good that Stiles almost wanted to bribe the driver to take them to Peter’s house instead.

 

Which hadn’t been really necessary, because they left before the main-course even arrived – after about 20 minutes of insinuating glances and remarks while playing footsy. But still, they were there.

 

 _Briefly_.

 

 

 

 

– FIN –


End file.
